Education
by ChronicallyinFlaming
Summary: Written for the dragon kink meme. Teenaged Bulma and Yamcha are ready to go all the way, but Bulma has a few requests to bestow on innocent Yamcha. As well as expanding his knowledge on the subject. Femdom.


The prompt: Teenaged Bulma and Yamcha are ready to go all the way, and Yamcha's innocent vanilla self is shocked at Bulma's much kinkier tendencies.

Inclusion of pegging is optional but would be appreciated.

The fill (takes place before Raditz arrives and DBZ official starts):

* * *

><p>"MY GOD YAMCHA!"<p>

He was thrown from her bedroom with a crash of falling picture frames and that oil painting of herself that she'd hung up and done herself, the one that made her look like she had scurvy. The huge amount of pictures, all of a small blue-haired girl growing up and whose moods seemed to be fully displayed in a sporadic order, covered the floor now. Yamcha stared at them, taking in the small baby who was either colicky or happy, the grinning toddler and the infant throwing a tantrum, the grade-school aged girl smiling and riding a dinosaur and the evilly-grinning girl caught trying to pour dinosaur food on her father's head, a teenage shrieking at the camera and desperately trying to hold onto her towel with her braces glimmering from the flash of the camera, the manically-laughing teen caught burning a training bra. All intersperse with the usual baby-in-a-tub pictures, her learning to walk and goggling up adorably at her father, her behind the wheel of a car and smirking behind a pair of bright red sunglasses.

Her parents, standing not far away, barely glanced in their direction. Thus sparing him the embarrassment of having to explain what he was doing in their daughter's bedroom at this hour, and why she was kicking him out.

He crawled back, silently thanking the Brief's for their taste in shag carpeting and simultaneously mentally apologizing for what he and their daughter had been doing. Had been trying to do.

"Do you even know what you're doing!"

"No. Wait. Do you?"

She paused. "Well."

He glared at her, still on his knees before her bouncy four-poster bed covered in frilly pink lace. She said it made her feel like a queen, when she'd brought him, gulping and red-faced, to her bedroom for the first time. How she'd leaned back on it with its curtains pulled away, like a lion surveying its fresh kill, like a princess. Then remembering her leaping, in slow motion, in his mind, from the bed onto Yamcha with a squeal.

"And I expect you to fix those pictures, Yammy." That hateful glare. That hateful nickname.

Like he was a _vegetable_.

"Fine. Fine."

The fighter rubbed a long muscle in his legs, trying to focus on that and not look up.

"Now get back up here," she said, almost purring.

Slowly, Yamcha saw a foot panning closer. The nails red and gleaming. Pressing against his chest and allowing him to take in the skinny ankle and slim calf. All pale. Rounded thigh. His eyes remained focused on her legs.

"Oh. _Yammy_."

"Oh. Bulma." Even he knew he was grinning stupidly.

She rolled her eyes, and beckoned closer.

He could nearly ignore that thing dangling, bouncing up and down, waggling with every movement she made, his own personal horror, in her lap.

"Oh, stop making that face."

Yamcha cringed. "Bulma. Come on. This is insane."

"You're calling this insane? We're mutual friends with a tiny boy that's able to turn into a giant monkey with a full moon. And_ this_ is insane?" She blew a curl of blue silk from her eyes. "Me sleeping with an unemployed, unemployable desert bandit: that's insane."

"Hey."

"What skills do you have, Yamcha! What skills!" That _thing_ went up and down as she slammed a hand down onto her mattress.

"I can run real fast," he mumbled darkly, glaring at her lap.

"Come on. Stop making that face! So what if it's bigger than yours?"

"BULMA!" It came out a miserable shriek. The bandit, who admittedly didn't have many job offers, buried his face in his hands. His hands. He looked at them, then back at that huge, totally out-of-portion plastic thing dangling from this creepy leather _harness_ around his girlfriend's small waist.

"Yeah. Which would you prefer tonight, Yamcha."

Black rough hair fell into his eyes. He looked down at his hands. Then at her crotch. Back at his leather-less, non-frightening hands. And then at her legs, up toward her breasts, then back to her lap.

"God! It's not Sophie's Choice!"

"I'm thinking. Just let me think!"

"Forget it! I don't need you!"

"Really? You have a lot of guys waiting outside for this?"

"You bastard! Men would kill for this!" Bulma made a sweeping gestured from the neck down.

"Not for that." Yamcha glared at it, hating it for existing, and for nodding the way it down. Like a wise sage bestowing wisdom on his followers.

"It won't hurt!" She sounded pleading. "I have lotion. Lotions. Oils. Paints."

"What? _What_? Why would you need paint?"

"Nevermind." The scientist crossed her legs awkwardly, wincing a little at the burn of leather and trying not to hit the giant black dildo dangling from her crotch with her foot. He shook his head, disapprovingly.

"Stop glaring. You look like my dad."

"How would your father react if he saw you like this?"

She giggled. "He'd wonder how I'd created this thing. Like, what adhesive I'd used."

"Did you make it yourself?"

She rolled perfect blue eyes. "You sound so appalled! Come on. Of course not. I bought it."

"_Where_?"

"Yamcha, if you want one, I'll buy you one. Now, come on."

"I don't-! Never mind. And what exactly do you have planned here?"

Lewdly, she started stroking that thing, up and down. "Oh, just fooling around a little. Relax. You know. You putting your ass up on some of these pillows, me making sure there's lots of oil on this thing here, sliding it in. I'll be slow. You know. That's the game plan."

"Stop it. Stop_ all_ of this."

How could she giggle like that innocent child trying to feed her father to a dinosaur? "Make me."

"I will. If you take that thing off."

"I swear. You're the most vanilla guy I've ever met. So uptight."

"Any guy would be!"

"Come on. I thought it would be nice. I just wanted to see how this sort of thing felt."

"So how is it?"

Bulma glanced at it. "Heavy, actually."

Yamcha rubbed his eyes for a long time.

"It's just…regular sex is boring."

He nearly wept. "How would you know? We haven't even done it!" Then Yamcha's face seemed to close up. "At least, you haven't done anything with me."

"You know I'm a virgin. But," she clasped her hands girlishly together, looking up with big glimmering eyes. "We can do more interest, better things than that."

"Why? Why can't we just, you know, do that. The regular thing?"

There was a small snort. "Maybe I'm saving myself."

"For who?"

"Someone with a job."

"Oh. Come on."

She crossed and uncrossed her ankles, looking at her lap. "Hm."

Yamcha watched warily. "What?"

"Look." Bulma seemed almost sincere, almost tentative. Her boyfriend leaned in a little closer, still on his knees. "How about we just do this a little? To satisfy curiosity?"

"No."

"Just the tip?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Tit for tat. You get to put it in me, if I can do the same for you."

"No."

"Come on!" She shrieked and threw a pillow at his head. "Just do this! Do this one thing, and I'll never ask you for a single thing again! It won't even hurt! It will feel good. Do you understand? I'll make you feel good, though getting nothing in back. All for you!"

"Bullshit!"

"It's not!" She kicked out at him. "There's a spot there, (I've done research) that will feel good if I hit it with this thing."

"You won't! You're not coming near me with that thing!"

"Yes I will! And you'll love it and ask for more!" All her muscles visibly tensed and her eyes were stormy and so vivid the blue nearly leaked into the white.

"I just wanted to cuddle!" Yamcha's voice cracked.

"Too bad. Come here. Drop the pants. Do it!"

"No!"

"Do it right now, or I'll throw you out and never see you again! I don't even care if we're friends with the same people and things get all messy and uncomfortable as we make them choose sides! By the way, you get Master Roshi and Oolong."

"Fine. I get Puar. And Goku."

"You can have 'em! I hope Goku turns into an ape and crushes you!"

"And I want Krillin. He's funnier than you, anyway."

"Shut up! And you don't get Krillin."

"You don't even like him."

"Too bad. I want him now. He could be my backup. My rebound. I bet he'll let me use this thing on him. And gladly. And I'll make him grow his hair out—"

"You hate long hair."

"On you."

"I cut my hair for you! And you're the one that needed to do that!"

"Let's not say things we'll both regret."

"You don't get Krillin. Do you understand! You've taken enough from me!"

"Like what? Your virginity! Even Krillin got to like _second base_ when those stoned hippies pulled him into their van and tried to date rape him with pot before Goku saved him!"

"Too bad._ My_ friend. You get Launch."

"No. You get Launch."

"Fine, I'll take her when she's blue-haired. Maybe ask her out. Bet _she_ can cook."

"Fine. I'll take your beloved Tien!"

"I'll get Chiaotzu. Then Tien will have to come with me. You can't separate those two!"

"I know! And it's super creepy! But I got Tien. So Chiaotzu will follow me."

"Everyone follows Goku though. And I got him. So there."

"Yamcha! Either you get naked so we can fool around, or just get out. I need to call your best not-so-little buddy Krillin and tell him I'm feeling vulnerable. And horny."

"And trying to stick a, a plastic penis up his ass."

"Some of those hippies were guys. He'll probably love this."

"Come on, we both know you're not going to do anything with him."

She fluttered her eyelashes. Looking upward like she was daydreaming. "Oh, _Krillin_. Those needy black eyes. That big mouth. Did I ever tell you that I had a thing for short guys? Mm. With that huge bald head. I bet he'll let me put my paints all over that head."

"Seriously. What paints?"

"You'll never know."

"Really. Just tell me."

"No."

"Please?"

"Nope."

"Come on."

"Nu-uh."

"Just a little clue."

"I'll tell you. If you get naked."

"Naked?"

"Just naked."

"Fine."

"…Aw. Yamcha. It's okay. I mean, this is really big. And you're abs make up for all your other shortcomings."

"I…shh. Just shhh."

She giggled. "I like how cute you look when you're frustrated."

"No wonder you're dating me."

"Aw, right." The blue-haired girl was spreading out onto her bed, smirking a little. Displaying the goods that made him want to weep. A curled finger, beckoning. Pink lips mouthing, c'mere.

"Okay." He felt like a failure. "Let's say we try this out. Just a little. And we stop when I say so."

"Oh, but you won't say so. You'll be too lost in ecstasy."

"Whatever. Can I, you know."

"What?"

"You know?"

"You want the paints?"

"No. No. I mean. You know." He tried not to leer since she'd complained that he looked like an insane gopher when he did so.

"These things?" She pointed to her breast, the red paint on her fingernails standing out against her pale skin.

He tried not to melt into the carpet. "Yeah. Those things."

Bulma glanced down at them. "Hmmmmm. Well, I can't say I blame you for the admiration…" Then the scientist did the cruelest thing she'd ever done to him so far: she began stroking that pink-tipped breast with one slim hand.

"Oh please."

"Yammy?"

Even the nickname didn't seem so bad. Or the tears in his eyes as he leaned forward to beg on bended knee.

"C'mere, my desert bandit. My rogue. My kidnapper."

"Oh, Bulma, do we have to do that?"

"Shut up! This is my fantasy! Don't you ruin it!" Her face contorted to a soft pleading expression. "Oh, please, don't hurt me. I'm just an innocent genius girl from the city."

He did his best not to roll his eyes. Tried to remember the lines of the script Bulma had written. "Now, now. If you cooperate, I won't hurt you."

A sniffle. "Even a little?"

"Nope."

"So, all I have to do is sodomize you-" Bulma kept talking over the sound of her boyfriend's choking. "And let you have your way with me in the most debauched manner, then I can go home?"

He tried to unclench his jaw. "Yes. Fine."

"All I have to do is put this thing into you, and then let you run your calloused hands all over my perfect body. Then I can leave."

"Suuure."

"I fuck you, then you fuck me. And all this is over?"

Yamcha picked at some dirt under his fingernail. "Right."

"You're such a barbarian! A wildman! Like you were raised by wolves."

Now that, that made him smile, however reluctantly.

"Or monkeys." She was looking toward the white ceiling, only recently painted after she'd crashed her head somehow against it and ruined the drywall. Stretching out beneath it, and if not for that thing still around her waist, she could have been a model in one of Master Roshi's magazines. "In fact, you should have a monkey tail."

"Oh, Bulma."

"What?"

His mouth tasted sour. "Don't."

"What?"

"He's married. And I'm not him. Do you understand that? I AM NOT HIM!"

"God! Stop being so dramatic! I'm just saying-"

"I know what you're saying."

"What, that I wish you have a tail so we could do kinky stuff?"

"You wish I have a tail. And a crazy haircut. And wore an orange-gi more. And that my NAME IS GOKU!"

"Stop it! He's married. Like you said. I've made my peace with that."

Yamcha stared at her, glowering beneath a fringe of black hair.

"I have. Now come here. My dangerous bandit. My unruly fighter. You know. You should cut your hair."

"What?"

"Some more. Make it all spiky."

There was a pause.

"Not spiky like Goku! Just. In general. Relax. I'm sure that moron is probably still trying to figure out how to undo his wife's bra. I don't want that."

"Chi-Chi."

"What?"

"His wife's name is Chi-Chi. Now say it."

"GOD! I hate you!"

"See! You're not over it!"

"Shut up!" She threw another pillow. "Chi-Chi. His wife. His adorable wife that you proposition and told that you loved her."

"Oh. Stop that. I explained what happened there."

"And I believe and trust you."

"'And I should do the same for you', fine."

"Let's move on."

"Good."

"…so, in-between Goku, and Krillin obviously thinking she's pretty, and you thinking she's gorgeous, how many guys do you think like her?"

"_Oh my god_, Bulma!" He slammed both hands down onto his knees.

"I'm just asking. For an estimate."

"Stop it. Or I'll leave. And make sure I get Krillin."

"…you won't."

"Oh yes I will! And we'll spend lots and lots of time with Chi-Chi! Helping her take care of Goku. Maybe she has some single female friends?"

She was crossing all her limbs. Closing herself off so frustratingly. "Hate you. Fine. Go leave. Go wash Goku's laundry. I'll go find some rich famous athlete to sleep with."

He was getting so tired. Of all this. From her to the way the bedroom smelled like vanilla and baby powder and fresh paint, to the late hour dragging on more and more. But leaving, leaving her and ruining all that they had, all they'd worked on for so many years? There was no chance that the tall fighter could walk away.

To go through this…maybe they could do this one thing, this one little thing, really, and move on. Maybe they would joke about it, years later as they reached middle-age and their children grew up. Or they wouldn't need to say anything. Just never speak of it. It really wasn't such a big deal. They sold that thing in store. People bought that thing. They used that thing. Maybe this was all normal in the city?

Yamcha filled his lungs and tried to center himself. "Bulma. Let's just do this."

"Really? All of it?"

"I could ask you the same."

"Fine. Everything's opened for business. No longer just waist up."

"Love you. Hate that rule."

"Well, it's gone. And I don't hate you so much right now. Like I said, those abs help."

"What do you want me to do?"

She patted the bed, her smile all teeth and victory. "Up here. Relax."

After all that time mediating, being taught by Krillin and Master Roshi, he should be able to do this. This one small thing.

'Just the tip.'

Beneath him, the satin and silk felt like snake skin. "Okay. Go easy on me."

Bulma grabbed pillows, stacking them, plumping them up. "Lay here. Relax. Don't tense! At all!"

"Stop yelling."

"Fine. Baby. Just relax and prepare yourself to be carried away by a wave of ecstasy."

He shoved his face into a stuffed moose that he'd won for Bulma at a fair so long ago. "Oh god."

"See. Already, you're enjoying this. Now just lay out. Put your butt up here. Wow. You have a nice butt. Wait. Is that a bite mark?"

"It's from Goku."

"Huh. Kinkier than I thought."

"Stop it. I had to share a bed with the guy and he _bit_ me."

"What did you do?"

"Scream."

"Well. Obviously. Wow. That's deep."

"Yeah. I know. All Krillin told me was to rub his nose that would get him to roll right off."

"I'm not going to think about that."

"Yeah well." His voice was muffled from the moose. "You should take a look at Krillin's ass sometime."

"Maaaayybe I will." Her hand cupping him tore his rebuttal away. How could she be so good at that? Way better than his own hand, and her fingers were nowhere as dexterous as his own. She couldn't even win thumb-wrestling with her father. But god, what she could do to him just by caressing the tip of his penis.

Thankfully his groan was covered by biting down on a plush antler.

"You look so good. So incredible. This big strong fighter at my mercy. Oh. You shuddering gets me so wet."

Something was prodding at his butt, taking away a little of the pleasure. Fingers spreading him so vulnerably. Not even trips to the doctor were this personal.

"Oh god. Bulma."

"Told you."

Maybe he could just fake it? Moan and say 'wow, awesome. Too good to do again. My turn now!' Would she believe that? Bulma was always quick to assume the best of herself.

Then cold liquid was sliding down his backside, much cooler than Goku's spit while he chewed on his now-traumatized friend. While those fingers pressed into him without a single pause, and then _twisted._

"Dear god!"

"See. Awesomeness."

"You owe me for this."

"Shut up and spread 'em."

"Oh god."

"I haven't even put it in yet. I'm just preparing you for it."

His back was covered in fear-sweat. "Don't stick the entire thing in."

"No. Just a lit."

"The tip?"

"Well. More than that."

"Oh, Bulma, I'm having second-thoughts."

"Just lay there. Mm. Let me see what's going on here. Oh, Mister Bandit? You want it in you? Or you'll hurt me? Well. If you say so…"

He couldn't believe the sobbing, out-of-breathe voice was his own. He sounded like Krillin, torn asunder from the limbs of those creepy stoned hippies. "I didn't say anything!"

"Relax! Wow. This isn't too bad. I feel so powerful."

"Ow-GO SLOW!"

"Fine."

"Ouch. No more. Do you understand? No more."

"Fine. I'll be nice."

Her hand was back around his front, stroking his half-hearted erection, moving upward to occasionally flick his nipples. "Okay. Okay."

Yamcha closed his eyes. He was in a happy place. With his girlfriend. Having sex with his girlfriend. About to have sex with his girlfriend. She was a beautiful girl, really. Rich and famous and caring at times. Dedicated. To things like his pain and discomfort, but _sincere_ about it.

That was something. And her boobs were big. And soft. And nice, really. He was lucky to have met her. There were men with much less. Like Krillin, who seemed permanently cursed to be a virgin, the guy who never had a date, and the closest thing he'd had to a girlfriend was getting kissed with this androgynous guy in a creepy-clown mask when he and Yamcha and Goku had wandered accidentally into a gay bar. Right. Krillin would kill for the chance to end up in this situation.

God that lotion was cold.

And, for all that burning in that area, the dildo was kinda chilly too.

He tried to focus on that, and Bulma's hand, rather than how humiliating this all was. If someone came in to find them, which was entirely impossible since Bulma's mom had 'boundary issues,' to have someone seeing them like this...People already joked about Bulma wearing the pants in their relationship.

…Well, she did goddamnit. What was he supposed to do? Order her about? Like a Neanderthal? He was a nice guy, a gentleman. Chivalrous, in his way….just like Krillin was.

And as such. Uh. He couldn't tell her to go fuck herself. She was his girlfriend, and deserved respect.

Huh. It wasn't so bad, if she went slow. Even the burning wasn't so bad. Sometimes, it felt not terrible at all. And her hand, sliding up and down his hardened length. That was super nice.

"Mm. Bulma, baby."

She giggled. And it wasn't so bad, this situation.

His girlfriend was happy, and that was half the fight. Happy, and having some type of sex with him. This was more than he'd gotten from anyone else before.

But still, he flinched when she grabbed his hips and moved in and out of him, whispering filthy things in his ears that nearly seared his brain, about how big and stiff he was, all those tanned muscles, how he was just an animal, meat for her, you bitch. Now stop whimpering and take it. Take it all, like he wanted, that slut. Spreading his legs like that, begging for more. Oh yeah. Filthy.

"Yammy. Call me Queen."

"Oh god."

Now his erection was shameful.

"Are you close?"

"Sure." Sadly, this wasn't a lie. Yamcha watched his erection nearly touching his bellybutton, bobbing up and down, like it was waving at him. And his knees were starting to ache. He could watch the curtains on her bed wafting a little from the breeze their movements caused. Waving goodbye to him.

Her nails were digging into his side. "Fuck." Grabbing onto his hair and tugging his head. "You're so incredibly hot. We should have done this years ago. I love this. I want to do this every day."

"Bulma. Bulms. Bulmy?"

"What? God. You know I hate it when you call me that."

"I think we should break up."


End file.
